First of all, it should be mentioned that Ethan knows the difference between what is and is not reality. It’s just that sometimes he doesn't want to acknowledge reality. He’s always been a daydreamer, used to think up elaborate stories about how he’d go on adventures and become the hero.
He knows why he daydreamed about what he did. He used to be enthralled by psychology, was in awe about how you could pick someone apart. Due to his obsessive phase, he also knows why he was so interested for that reason. He’s picked apart his psyche many times, he knows himself inside and out.
He knows why he daydreams, he knows why he lets his daydreams replace reality. His ideas run wild only because he lets them. He had been a sad kid. The home he grew up in was not the most welcoming, although he could have done worse. Raised by a single father with no siblings doesn’t leave much room for a lot of conventional childhood experiences. Most of his childhood can be summed up as his father being gone for work so that they don’t go hungry, leaving him to sit at home with not much for entertainment.
With that in mind it’s no wonder that he picked up daydreaming as a coping mechanism. It’s also not surprising that he kept that coping mechanism even after his father met his partner who had two kids. He was suddenly thrust into a new situation that he didn’t know how to deal with.
So really his chronic daydreaming is not his fault. Just because he prefers to sit around and think about things over going out and actually doing things does not mean that he’s lazy. Just because he so happens to be doing that right now when his parents just so happen to have guests over means absolutely nothing.
Ethan sighs and picks up his phone from where it was dropped on the bed. He has no idea when he dropped it, but that’s just an unfortunate side effect of blocking out reality. He had internet friends that he talked to quite often but so far today they weren’t answering.
‘Everyone keeps ignoring me.’ Nobody has said anything at all to him today and it’s already afternoon.
He clutches his blanket tighter around him and shivers. Although it is winter and especially cold, he only feels cold because his friends aren’t answering. He has nothing else to do and his boredom might kill him if it gets any worse.
He can’t go outside because he doesn’t do good in cold weather, and he can’t go out of his room because his parents have guests over. He’s stuck in his room with nothing to do. He doesn’t have much in the way of entertainment in his room, when choosing things to put in it he focused more on the aesthetics.
He rolls over onto the middle of the bed and burrows into his blankets. He can’t sleep in the middle of the day but he can pretend that he wants to. He’s already tired enough and taking a nap in the middle of the day is just going to make him even more tired. He rolls over again until he’s laying on his back facing the ceiling.
He decides to take a nap anyway as he stares at the ceiling for minutes that feel like hours. He’s found out that he can basically knock himself out if he tries hard enough to clear his mind. It’s not always easy but one of his more reliable techniques is just counting.
He relaxes his body as much as he can as he closes his eyes and starts to count. One, two, three, four……